closer when you're
by the anomaly
Summary: This time there’s no need for flying, only empathy for empathy, however futile that is. Seven drabbles, Peter/Nathan. Spoilers for 4x12 The Fifth Stage. Please read and review!


Disclaimer: Not mine. Not making money either.

_Please read and review!_

**closer when you're**

The table is set perfectly as on all days and each member takes its proper place. Partaking of breakfast is an integral part of everyday life, where civilities are exchanged and food consumed. Nathan excuses himself if the situation permits, feigning an early lecture or appointment. Today he does so, clearing his throat soundlessly as he pushes back his chair. He straightens his tie. Before he rises, little Peter, no more than five, scampers forward on tippy toes and corrects his brother's creased shirt collar at the back of his neck. And for the first time this morning, Nathan smiles.

*****

When Nathan is upset his jaw tightens ever so slightly so that only nine-year-old Peter notices it from across the table at dinner. After lights-out he sneaks into the kitchen. Atop a stool he spies the gallon-sized tub of chocolate ice-cream, hoists it out and smuggles it upstairs with no little effort. He hugs it to his stomach and knocks quietly on Nathan's door. Beneath the covers they dig into the ice-cream with the biggest spoon Peter could find in the cutlery drawer, and in between huge mouthfuls Nathan thinks he may actually be starting to feel a little better.

*****

Peter hates math and Nathan is tasked with guiding him through the most tedious list of sums every evening. Nathan watches him tackle a particularly difficult one till finally he gives up and slumps back staring into space. Nathan doesn't tell his brother that he loves him the most when he daydreams, and has this gloss over his eyes, and asks about sunsets and four-leaf clovers and dreams where the two of them are soaring over buildings. He can't even admit that to himself, but the least he can do (which he does), is to let his brother dream unhindered.

*****

They are at one of those formal dinner parties thrown by father. Peter is too old to sit with the children but too young to play host to their guests, merely caught in the uncomfortable in-between of bright lights and exotic cuisine. Every now and then he sweeps his long fringe from his eyes awkwardly and steals glances at his brother for reassurance. Peter likes his brother's chiseled, decisive jaw and strong hands, and there are times (like now) when he wants to touch them the way one would venerate a sacrament that would chase all those ridiculous dreams away.

*****

The night air is clean and cold and holds none of the promise of that fateful night so many years ago. Nathan blinks tiredly. He doesn't reveal that his mind is filled with sequences of slitting his brother's throat and the rising satisfaction in his gut when it happens. He's weary beyond words but for the last time he assumes the role of pillar and strength and tells him, the dreamer who never asks why but always says why not, who's too grieved to agree that believing they can make it through death is purely a lie, to let go.

*****

Claire wonders why Peter arrives at her apartment at 3a.m. and crumples when she hugs him. Wordlessly, he holds her and acquires her healing ability and she too says nothing. This time there's no need for flying, only empathy for empathy, however futile that is. The pavement rises up to meet him. Death tastes like salt and blood and anger, because he can't even enjoy the pain he was expecting before healing over. He feels his fractured femur fuse shut and punches it with his fist, pummeling it over and over, blood on his chest with no visible wounds, crying.

*****

Their mother has something about taking annual photographs of them in black tie. Peter is sixteen, just beginning to fill out the sharp suits ordered by the dozen but still slim and willowy in profile. They are getting ready for the shot when Peter moves behind him and Nathan is surprised at how much his brother has grown. He laughs to himself and sighs as Peter frees his hands from his pockets and adjusts his brother's shirt collar, absentmindedly tugging at the short hairs at the base of Nathan's head at which he lingers for a little, and lets go.


End file.
